


merely beside each other

by voxophone



Series: choice kingdom [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Gender Dysphoria, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Slavery, Slow Build, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxophone/pseuds/voxophone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping Tevinter, Dorian and Lavellan travel through southern Thedas. Breaking out of his chains is more difficult than Lavellan ever imagined and he has scars even time can't heal. Luckily he has someone to remind him of where he is now. But memories are not the only thing chasing them. </p><p>Sequel to <i>"what branches grow". </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. yesterday is over

## Part I (End of 9.37 – end of 9.38 Dragon)

...

Holding onto Dorian's hand is the only thing keeping Siorys from slipping into complete and utter panic. At first, the sight of Wycome had filled him with wonder, but now the sheer size of it overwhelms him. After two weeks trapped in a small space, he's not used to soo many sounds and smells. There could be slavers around every corner. He knows he isn't safe here, and every time he tries to calm himself down, he remembers that nowhere is safe. So he hides behind Dorian, using the man as a shield. The Altus is dragging his luggage behind him and muttering about the South and it's poor weather. Siorys tries to focus on him instead of the potential dangers around them. He's grateful that Dorian doesn't seem to mind his silence or the hand holding. 

When they finally reach an acceptable inn, Siorys is exhausted. Dorian pays for a room and the innkeeper helps them carry the luggage upstairs. The room is nice, there are two single beds and and a desk in the corner. Siorys puts down his small knapsack on the bed to the right and sits down next to it. He only brought a few things with him when he made his escape. He empties out his belongings on the bed. One extra tunic, three golden bracelets and and a pouch of coins that his Master had left lying around in his bedroom. He could have taken more, but he'd been too scared. 

While Dorian is busy unpacking one of his bags, Siorys takes his shirt off and starts loosening the straps on his binder. His ribs already hurt despite only wearing it for a few hours today. He takes it off and puts his shirt back on before he curls up on the bed. 

“I'd wait if I were you,” Dorian says. “I ordered up a basin of hot water so we can wash.”

Siorys tries to shake his head but only burrows his face deeper into the pillow. He'll wash later. Right now, sleep is more important. 

“Alright, sleep well,” Dorian says and covers him with a blanket. It doesn't take long before Siorys falls asleep. In his dreams, he's on a sinking ship but his Master is drowning with him and Siorys is happy even if he knows he's going to die. 

When he wakes up, he's groggy and hungry. It's dark outside and Dorian is sitting on his bed with a book in his lap. He's so focused on his reading that he doesn't notice when Siorys stands up, yawns and stretches his arms. He wonders what the book is about, but he doesn't want to disturb Dorian. 

Instead, he looks around the room. One of Dorian's trunks is open on the floor, filled to the brim with books. Siorys wonders how he carried it all the way to the inn by himself. It looks heavy. In the middle of the room there's a large basin of water. He dips his finger in it, but pulls it back quickly. The water is cold. But he needs to feel clean again and it's not like it will be the first time he'll wash in cold water. He slips off his clothes and climbs in. He's almost done when Dorian finally looks up from his book. 

“Kaffas, that must be freezing! Why didn't you tell me to send for a new one? I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine,” Siorys says. He hadn't even considered it. Dorian slowly shakes his head. He looks so horrified that Siorys has to stop himself from giggling at him. 

“Let me order you some dinner to make up for it,” Dorian says. He closes the the book with a loud thud and starts mumbling curse words under his breath. The only thing Siorys manages to pick out from it is 'rude' and 'terrible friend' and something about the book being a steaming pile of druffalo shit for distracting him. 

Dorian runs out the door and Siorys finally lets out the giggles. It's such an absurd situation. An Altus, apologizing to him for a cold bath. As if it truly mattered. As if Siorys is someone worth apologizing to. It makes him feel like he isn't himself. The thought makes his stomach twist. He pretends that it's only hunger and rinses the last of the soap out of his hair. He towels himself dry and puts on his binder and the clean tunic, but the feeling of unease persists. 

…

Dorian brings the dinner up to their room. He figures Lavellan will want to stay away from the crowds judging by his reaction to the city, and there are still people filling up the tables. It's safer if he stays out of sight anyway. There could be slavers after them already. They won't stay in Wycome for long for that very reason, but Dorian is unsure of where to go next. 

But it's getting late, and unlike Lavellan, Dorian has not slept since their arrival in the Free Marches. He doesn't have the energy to come up with a plan. So he runs upstairs with a hot bowl of lamb stew in his hands and knocks on the door. “Are you dressed? Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” Lavellan says and Dorian enters. Lavellan is standing over the basin dressed only in his small clothes and a blue tunic. He's washing his travel clothes in the dirty water. He doesn't look up from his task when Dorian approaches. 

“I'll just put the food on the desk,” he says. Dorian lays down on his bed after that, but instead of reading he watches Lavellan. He realizes that he's never actually seen anyone do the laundry before. Dorian is pretty sure the water needs to be clean for it to work, but it might help a bit considering how dirty Lavellan's clothes were to begin with. But they could just buy new ones. 

“I think your clothes are beyond saving. You should eat before the stew gets cold,” Dorian says. 

He feels like he's turned into his mother. When he was a child he'd get so excited talking about his studies during meals that he'd forget to eat. His father would smile, and his mother would sigh and tell him to eat before the food was ruined. 

But so many things have changed since then. And now he will never see his parents again. 

Dorian doesn't listen to whatever Lavellan says next, if he says anything at all. He'd thought he was over it, but he's just been distracted. Just thinking about his family is enough to awaken the pain again. If he wasn't so tired he'd go downstairs and get himself a drink. 

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opens his eyes again the daylight blinds him and he has to close them again. He groans and covers his face with his hands. He feels like he's hungover, despite that he never had a drink last night. It's unfair. 

His boots are still on his feet so he kicks them off and crawls back into bed. The next time he wakes, his stomach growls and that's enough to keep him awake. Dorian reluctantly sits up and before he has a chance to dig up a mirror from his trunk and fix his mustache, he realizes Lavellan is crying. Dorian freezes, unsure of what to do. 

“What's wrong?” he finally says, but gets no response. Dorian approaches Lavellan carefully. He's nestled into the blankets on his bed, and only his hair sticks out of the bundle. Dorian sits down next to him but he doesn't know what to say. Kaffas, he's not the right person to deal with this. The only comfort he knows how to give himself is in the bottom of a bottle and that has only caused disaster after disaster. It's probably not what Lavellan needs. 

“Can I touch you?” Dorian asks, remembering how the hand-holding calmed his friend earlier. Maybe it could help again. The lump on the bed moves, but Dorian can't tell if it's a nod or if Lavellan is shaking his head. “Move again if that was a yes,” he says. The lump moves. 

Dorian starts rubbing Lavellan's back through the blankets. The sobbing doesn't stop, but it slows. They sit like that for a long time, until Dorian's hand is tired and Lavellan is breathing in a slow rhythm. Dorian almost flinches when the elf turns around and is suddenly facing him. Not that the face is actually visible, it's still hidden under the blanket. The only thing he can actually see is Lavellan's forehead. 

“Thank you,” Lavellan says. 

“No problem. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don't know. Everything is just so overwhelming. I went downstairs to return the wash basin and the inn-keep didn't understand me. And then one of the patrons got angry and started yelling at me. I don't know what he said, but I think it had something to do with me being from Tevinter. I got scared, so I ran.” Lavellan pauses and adjust the blanket so it hides his forehead too. “And I...I feel so useless. How am I supposed to survive when I can't even understand anyone? I'm going to be caught and then I'll be punished. Maybe he'll use me for blood magic. Maybe that's all I'm good for after all.”

“No. That's not going to happen. You've gotten this far and you are strong enough to make it. And don't forget that I'm here. I'll teach you the common tongue, so don't worry about not being understood. And if anyone gets close enough to try to catch you, they'll have to go through me. I'm pretty impressive in a fight. And soon, you will be too.”

Lavellan finally peeks out from his blanket and gives Dorian an unsteady smile.


	2. never know any doubt

Hersilia hates waiting. She stares at the guard and doesn't break eye contact until the brute looks away. He rubs the back of his head and studies the mosaic on the floor as if he has forgotten that she's standing right in front of him. She doesn't move. There are no chairs in the corridor outside Magister Duilius's office. And he's making her wait. Their meeting should have started ten minutes ago. The only thing she can do to retaliate is to make his guards uncomfortable. Hersilia sighs. Important people always feel the need to remind others of their importance and Duilius is one of the worst offenders. If it wasn't for the offer he made in his letter she wouldn't be standing here. But Maker knows she needs the money. 

Finally, the door opens and Duilius gestures for her to come inside. He sits down at his desk and Hersilia takes her seat opposite him. 

”It is good to see you again Lady Gervase,” he says. 

”Likewise, Magister Duilius. I hear you have a job for me.”

”Ah, directly to the point. This is why I hired you last time and since then your reputation has only grown.” He smiles at her. Hersilia smiles back, as is expected of her. 

”Tell me about the slave,” she says. If he likes her direct approach, it would be foolish to reign herself in. And she really wants to get this over with. Magisters are annoying. 

”I did not expect her to run away. She is a docile and obedient thing. It should not be difficult to track her down. She ran while I was on a trip to Vyrantium, I'm guessing by ship. She was spotted at the docks.”

”Good. Having a place to start the search always helps. What does the elf look like?”

”White skin, golden hair. She has the loveliest blue eyes. There is a scar across her right eyebrow and another one along her jawline on the left side of her face. Ah, and she will most likely be dressed as a man when you find her.”

Hersilia nods. Duilius's description of the elf is specific enough to be useful. ”Anything else I should be aware of?” she asks. 

”She's a mage. I never had her trained so it shouldn't be a problem.”

”Understood,” Hersilia says, but inside old anger is burning. It's unfair, it will always be unfair, but she knows that one day she has to let go of her childish jealousy. _A slave shouldn't have magic. Yet this one was given more power than I will ever have. I should have been born Altus, or at least Laetan. I should have..._ She brings herself back to the moment. Duilius is talking again, about the details of her payment but that was in the letter. She smiles, they exchange more pleasantries and shake hands and when Hersilia exits his office and walks down that blighted corridor again, determination has replaced her fury. She will find this slave and bring it back. She might not have magic but she has skill and it has won her respect. Her mother had been wise to set her on this path instead of letting her join the army. 

The trail leads her to a merchant ship and a captain called Isabela. A few whispers and Hersilia knows the captain is a pirate rather than a merchant and if the rumors has any merit to them, one of her known associates is an escaped slave. The ship is bound for Wycome in the Free Marches. She will ready a ship of her own and follow, but first she has things to take care of.

The first thing on her list is to check on Laelia, which means leaving the city. Hersilia walks through the merchant district of Minrathous, taking in all the smells and sounds around her. Fine fabrics and jewelry taunt her with their beauty. Her daughter would love a new necklace or silk for a dress. Maybe after the job is complete, if there's enough money left for luxuries. Hersilia keeps walking, but stops again at a stand with daggers. She admires a silverite blade with a handle shaped like a dragon, but moves on without buying it. 

After another hour of walking, she reaches her house. It's a large house, not quite luxurious enough to call a mansion despite how many times her husband has tried to convince her that it is. She had been promised more when she married him, but the house is hardly the largest disappointment. They live in a nice neighborhood of Laetan and rich Soporati families, close to the merchant district and not far from the Dwarven Embassy. They have a few slaves to clean and cook. But Hersilia wants to move up in the world and make her family proud. She wants to give her daughter a future. 

Her husband isn't home and Hersilia orders one of the slaves to ready her horse. She runs upstairs to her bedroom and changes into more comfortable clothes for her trip. She already has three daggers on her, but decides to take another one with her. On her way back to the stables, she passes the kitchen and takes a rucksack with food for the road. She doesn't lower her hood until she's outside the city. 

Her slaves will know to keep quiet when Clovis asks what she's been up to. Not that it would matter if they talked. None of them know where she's going, only how much food she brought with her. And no matter how suspicious her husband gets, she always has excuses for her trips. It's for work, she'll say and it'll shut the man up. He can't stand the fact that she brings in more money for the family than he does. 

She wishes she had never married the envious and cruel beast of a man. If not for her daughter, Hersilia wouldn't have been able to stand it. She smirks at the thought of Clovis never seeing their daugther again. He'll never find her, no matter how hard he looks. Laelia is safe from him, and if the job goes well, Hersilia will be able to keep her hidden for a very long time. Maybe she'll even have enough money to hire the Antivan Crows to take care of Clovis. 

After four days on horseback, she reaches her destination. If she'd taken the Imperial Highway, she could have been there in less than three days, but she always takes a different route to make sure she isn't being followed. 

It's one of the larger villages between Minrathous and Vol Dorma, and the place where Hersilia's best friend lives. She rides past a large wine plantation and watches the slaves work themselves sweaty. The house she's going to is one of the larger estates in the village, at the far east side. 

It's a nice place for a child to grow up. There are fields to play in, trees to climb and many other children to play with. It's a shame that Laelia is hiding inside. But she's twelve years old now, almost too old to enjoy childish things. 

Hersilia hands her horse to one of the stable boys and walks up to the front door. She hesitates before knocking. Maybe she shouldn't have come. She didn't notice anyone following her, but she could be wrong. _But I need to see Laelia before I leave, in case I don't come back. Any job can go sour, no matter how easy it sounds. If I die, she should have one last memory of me._

”I didn't know you were going to visit so soon after last time,” Philander Tatius chuckles as he opens the door for her. 

Hersilia smiles and removes her hood as she steps into the mansion. It's always good to see Philander. He is the dearest friend she has in the world, the only one she would ever trust with her daughter's safety. And the best thing is that nobody in Minrathous knows about him. She never told her mother or her siblings about the smuggler she met on her first job, back when she didn't run her own operation. The others who had been part of that mission were long dead, and they could spread no stories. 

”It's good to see you too,” she says. Philander brings her into a bear hug before she has a chance to protest. ”How is she?” Hersilia asks. 

”She's doing well. She's started practicing fire spells and I'm teaching her to play the piano. But she misses you.”

”I've missed her too.”

”Let's bring you to her, then,” Philander says and leads her up the stairs and down a corridor. He knocks on the door and Laelia calls for them to come inside. 

”Mother!” she exclaims and throws herself into Hersilia's arms. She spins her daugther around, both of them laughing. Hersilia suspects she won't be laughing again for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you like this chapter! What do you think about Hersilia?

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the sequel is here! Sorry about the wait. There will probably be more waiting between chapters because of my work schedule and stuff. You have been warned. At least the second chapter is already done so I'll post that soon. 
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please tell me what you think.


End file.
